750 Book(s) Related to mai chan daily life manga

It took Draco seven years after my death to finally remember me—and he did it by leveling the Astral Sanctuary to the ground.

All because his fragile childhood sweetheart, Cecilia, had suffered a relapse. She needed my Starblood to survive.

He didn't know that in the Abyssal Dungeons seven years ago, he had personally cut open my chest and drained me dry.

I was already dead.

Now, I was nothing but a fractured soul tethered to the Sanctuary, watching coldly as he dragged his own spirit into eternal damnation for a venomous liar.

My husband suffered a massive heart attack mid-thrust inside my best friend.

Now, the ER doctors are clutching his surgical consent forms, waiting for me—the legal wife—to sign.

Over the phone, my mother-in-law shrieked in absolute despair while my best friend sobbed in terror.

I turned a deaf ear to them, taking my time to admire my makeup in the mirror.

There was absolutely no rush. Waiting until I changed into this pitch-black mourning dress to slowly watch his countdown to death wouldn't be too late.

After all, when my parents and my son, Noah, were lying in the morgue, I survived a dead-silent night exactly like this one, shedding tears until my eyes literally bled dry.

Now, it is finally my husband's turn to go to hell and atone for my family.

To give my daughter, Lily, a childhood connected to nature, I put on worn-out overalls and carved out a small vegetable patch at the edge of the estate.
That was until today, when a vicious dog lunged without warning, sinking its teeth into Lily's calf. Blood instantly stained the dirt.
I threw myself over my daughter like a madwoman to protect her, only to be viciously whipped across the face with a diamond-studded leash.
"Where did this lowly gardener come from! You hurt my dog—can your two worthless lives afford to pay for it?"
A young woman in a haute couture white dress, her pregnant belly protruding, sneered and waved her hand. "Where is security? Beat this crazy, pathetic woman and her little thief of a bastard to death, and throw them out of the estate!"
Holding my convulsing daughter, I said, "Beat us to death? Have you asked the master of the estate?"
The woman giggled coquettishly.
"My boyfriend is the master of this estate! With just one word from him, he could crush you like an ant!"
What a coincidence.
The "masters of the estate" she spoke of... I know them both.
One is my husband.
And the other... is my son.

Seven years ago, I unexpectedly transmigrated into the treacherous world of the North American mafia.
 
The System told me that as long as I accumulated a 100% "Angst Index" in this world, I could escape and return to reality with substantial rewards.
 
But after crossing over, I became the most pampered princess of the entire Koschei family.
 
My mafia father would buy all the roses in Manhattan just because I said I liked them. My genius doctor brother once climbed a mountain in a blizzard just to find medicine for me. And my fiancé, the heir apparent to the empire, still carried a scar on his chest from a fatal bullet he took for me.
 
I lost myself in the tender illusion they had forged.
 
Just when I had decided to give up everything and stay in this world forever, I overheard my father talking to my brother in his study:
 
"The brake lines are cut. Tomorrow, as soon as the crash happens, take advantage of the chaos in the ambulance to remove Elara's corneas. Do the transplant for Seraphina immediately."
 
Seraphina was the true blood daughter they had just brought back a month ago.
 
My fiancé, Silas, merely added, "Leave Elara alive, at least. She's called you 'Father' for so many years, after all."
 
Standing outside the door, my blood ran cold like ice.
 
So the next day, I gave them exactly what they wanted.
 
Amidst the deafening crash of the collision, feeling the agonizing pain of my legs being crushed, I watched my brother sprinting toward me, carrying an organ transplant cooler.
 
A long-absent electronic voice echoed in my ears:
 
[Congratulations to the Host. The Angst Index has reached 100%. You may return to the real world upon physical death.]
 
As blood completely swallowed my vision, a trace of twisted relief welled up in my heart.

Ninety-nine pearl necklaces correspond to ninety-nine fractures in my heart.

He was accustomed to using extravagant pearls to atone for his transgressions, yet on the day of my mother’s funeral, he chose to vacation with his mistress while plotting to take from me the ancestral home my mother left behind.

When the hundredth pearl arrived, I presented him with the divorce papers. The pain of my miscarriage still lingered, as he offered me a rare black pearl to "atone"; moments later, he was liking his mistress's posts.

He believed pearls could purchase my love, unaware that each bead counted down the moments of our marriage.

In the end, what does it matter if he risked everything to protect me?

I shall never turn back.

“Are you okay, kitten? Don’t tell me you’ve had enough when we’re just starting. You’re supposed to be our insatiable mate.”
—

Getting enrolled in a new school and forced to hide her real identity due to her father’s demand because she’s wolfless. She chooses to live a quiet life through college and get it done with, but that can’t happen when she sets foot wrong with the school’s queen bee on her first day and catches the attention of the two hottest twins in school.

The last thing she wants is to get involved with two nasty twins who make her question her every stance.

As fate would have it, she soon realizes she’s mate to these two notorious twins who have been on her neck and wanted her for their little games but little did the twins know they’ll be the ones get stuck in that game forever.

WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE EROTIC EXPLICIT SCENES! PURELY R-RATED!!!

"It was a mistake! I apologized already," feeling so terrified as I moved backward.

"You should have known me better than this, little sparrow," He chuckled deeply, his gaze fixed on me.

"Lucas please!" I cried, now stopped by the wall as my heart beats faintly.

"Don't worry it's just a little game, you and I will play, you'll love it, little sparrow," He smirked.

I knew this was a trick, Ben lied when he said he wouldn't hurt me and I stupidly fell into the trap.

Now, I was alone with him and in his room.

I think this is the time for me to announce my funeral...

"Strip!" His cold voice snapped me out,as he stared at me with a deadpan expression while I gazed at him in ultra shock.


Camilla Evans is a gentle nerd in her finals at Watermark Highschool. As a nerd, the stereotypical notion of her wearing thick rimmed glasses, out-of-vogue clothes and shoes which were eighty percent of the time, twice her size still stands.

Having been at the bottom of the food chain in Watermark Highschool, Camilla was liable to predators and the most annoying one of them all went by the name, Lucas Liam.

Camilla had no idea why the hottest guy in school would even spare her a glance not to mention actually spending the whole day bullying and teasing her to no end.

Could there be something else to these false acts of bully and teases from Lucas?

Find out what happens when the Cheerleader, Jenny Layton put Camilla's life at stake?

Will she be able to handle all the torments she's passing through especially when her mum died and her sister left her behind?

Eleven years ago, I was framed for killing my precious younger sister whom everyone loved, and they thought I should have been the one to die instead of her.

Being the daughter of the Beta, I was stripped of my title and demoted to an omega and became a servant in the pack's house.

I was despised by everyone, especially the quadruplets, the Alpha's sons— the ruthless and most feared, respectable Alphas who never took a break from tormenting me and making my life worthless.

Ten years later, my younger sister who was thought to be dead, reappeared at the pack's doorstep, looking alive and well, and even more beautiful and elegant. She was welcomed happily by all the pack members and was desired by the quadruplet.

I thought everything would go back to how it was but I was neglected and remained the omega no one wanted until my life took a shocking turn when I clocked eighteen.

Fate had me mated to the Alpha's sons, not just one but all four of them but what's even more shocking was when they agreed to make me their mistress.

I'd rather eat dirt! Cause, I won't be bending so easily.

“You’re dripping,” he groaned. “You hear that? You’re making a mess all over me.”


He's the school's willful billionaire bad boy— hot, tall, handsome who made her fall and loosen herself for him just to find out it was all a lie.

A bet.

Well, two can dance a tango, right?

A comeback is all she needs. One that would make the so-called dangerous bad boy fall to his knees.

It wasn't just a game to him.

What if there's something more…

A facade he's hiding behind?

WARNING: Contains strong vulgar languages, sexual scenes, erotic contents, triggering situations, and lots more.

“This isn’t right. Wh-what if we get caught?” I trembled in both fear and pleasure. A sense of guilt flooded through me.

A dark chuckle left one of the boys' lips— my alpha stepbrothers. “Well, that makes it more exciting.” Their warm tongues trailed softly on my skin. Igniting a burning storm in me.

Oh, moon goddess!


Excited to start a life with her mum’s new family. Things didn’t go as planned when she arrived at the pack’s house.

Meeting two drop-dead handsome brothers wasn’t what she was hoping for and most especially getting into the craziest carnal desires with them.

Could it be the moon goddess had something in store for them?

Something so forbidden?

Every time she draws away, the brothers find a way to pull her back into their sin.

How would she ever escape such forbidden atrocities?

She shouldn’t be doing this.

It was very wrong.

So, so wrong.

Yet why does it feel good?

Why does it make her toes curl?

Why does her wolf howl with each passing pleasure and orgasm?

And…

Why does it feel so right?

WARNING: Contains extremely explicit content. Read at your own risk or not!

"You are naked," Josh commented.

"No-no… I…" she began to stutter, earning a small smile from Josh. "I am not."

"Come out from the stream then," he said with a lopsided smirk, moving dangerously closer to her.


Born of the lowest rank, Olivia has suffered greatly as an Omega Werewolf. After facing a pack attack, she was saved by a strange man who sold her off to be a slave. As she begins serving as a slave for a werewolf pack, she is captured by rogues.

After finally escaping from a group of dangerous rogues, she finds herself facing rejection yet again when she learns that she is mated to the Cursed Alpha, Josh who is the most feared, ruthless, and deadliest werewolf in the world.

Josh ruled with an iron hand, was merciless and dangerous just the way he wanted it. He knew he had no chance at love, and discovering he had a mate was out of the question. Mates are weaknesses, and his parents were the perfect example of why he should not be mated. Then, what was the Moon Goddess thinking, mating him with an Omega?

“Do you know how sexy you look right now?” His deep voice made my core tingle as his fingers glided between my folds.

He was hot and I was slimy and wet. “Oh, gosh!” I threw my head back in pleasure as he increased his pace.

His magical fingers made me fidget shamelessly, “Please—” aching for a release.

“Do you want to cum for me, Pookie?” A dark smirk glinted at the corner of his lips.

And I…

I just couldn't take it anymore.


They called her ugly and fat, she felt out of place. The only family she had mistreated not until she encountered the billionaire golden boy who is ready to go miles for her.

But not without a storm ahead.

The day my husband gave me a five-carat diamond ring, his mistress spotted it on my hand. Wearing the exact same ring, she accused me of stealing her man. Before I could explain, she and her bridesmaids beat me to death.   My husband shielded her from the law and married her before I was even buried. My mother-in-law embraced her simply for being pregnant.   Then I opened my eyes on the day I received that ring.   This time, I slipped it onto my mother-in-law's finger.

On the exact day of our wedding anniversary, I walked into a hotel penthouse to catch my husband cheating.
 
Kian Rook lounged on the sofa, dragging on a cigar as he pulled his newest mistress deeper into his lap.
 
"You've got five years on me, Coraline. You should know by now you can't keep me on a leash. Doesn't playing my warden get exhausting?"
 
The young girl giggled, burying her face in his neck.
 
"Just accept it, Coraline. Men want youth."
 
I just smiled.
 
For five years, I had bled myself dry to crown Kian the king of the Rook Global Conglomerate.
 
Wall Street whispered that Coraline Voss was pathetic. A brilliant, cutthroat executive who was tragically obsessed with her cheating husband.
 
They were wrong. My boundless tolerance had nothing to do with Kian.
 
It was all because of the face he wore.
 
He was an exact replica of his late older brother, Silas Rook. My first love. My only love.
 
I spent five years enduring it all to keep a ghost alive.
 
But now, the illusion broke. 
 
It was time to wake up.

When my husband handed the project I bled for to his "depressed" childhood sweetheart, he told me to be mature. "You're my wife. You shouldn't care about the credit."

So, when I was in the hospital miscarrying our baby while he threw her a party, I didn't cry. When she posted selfies wearing my anniversary necklace, I didn't scream.

Julian thought he had finally broken me into the perfect, obedient housewife. He truly believed I was nothing without him.

What a pathetic joke.

He had no idea his entire "business empire" was secretly kept alive by my family's trust fund.

He certainly didn't know the "mundane paperwork" he blindly signed this morning was my resignation—and our divorce agreement.

I had caught Jasper entertaining the same woman in his bed seventeen times.   The first time I caught them, the shock triggered a miscarriage.   As I collapsed on his office floor in agony, Jasper didn't call 911. He just ordered his security to mop up my blood before it could ruin Lenora's designer shoes.   "At the end of the day, you're the one sitting at the head of my table," he would remind me, keeping me trapped.   When my grief finally turned to rage, I exposed their affair on his company's bulletin board.   In response, Jasper invited the tabloid press to our home. He tossed a contract at me with a cruel smirk.   "I have one other mistress," he challenged. "Find her in thirty days, and I'll drop Lenora and come home for good."   Desperate to save my marriage, I exhausted a fortune on private investigators. Yet, all my traps only ever caught Lenora.   Today was the deadline. Surrounded by flashing cameras and paparazzi, I exhaustedly slid a piece of paper with Lenora's name across the table.   "Jasper, please stop playing games."   Jasper lounged on the sofa, his arm wrapped around Lenora. He looked at me with cold, apathetic eyes.   "You dug through my entire life, yet missed the most glaring detail. The other woman... is you, Elowen."

My husband doesn't love me. He cares even less for the boy who carries his blood.
 
On the day I gave birth to his heir, Rhys Calloway didn't even glance at the bassinet. The ruthless Don of the Calloway Syndicate simply had a soldier place the child in my arms before walking out, eager to return to the violence of his empire.
 
But tonight, the ice finally broke. His former fiancée—the woman he had actually intended to crown—was returning from Europe.
 
Rhys came home reeking of aged bourbon, his dark eyes glassy with a terrifying euphoria. For the very first time, he actually scooped our son into his arms, a rare, chilling laugh vibrating in his chest.
 
Startled, Leo clung to the broad shoulders of the man he was forbidden to claim as a father.
 
He looked down at me, his voice a terrified whisper in the cavernous foyer.
 
"Mama, what's wrong with him? Why is Sir acting like this?"
 
I knelt, gently pulling my son from Rhys's slackening grip.
 
"The woman he truly loves is coming home, baby," I whispered, fighting the sting of tears. "Which means our time here is up. We have to pack."

I gave up my dream offer to Cambridge just so I could follow my heavily bullied childhood sweetheart to Princeton.

Yet, the day before we were supposed to submit our applications, I overheard him and his teammates laughing heartily:

"Man, you deserve an Oscar," one of them snickered. "You actually got the Vanderbilt heiress to drop Cambridge just by playing the victim?"

"To cause a rift with my family for me, and to serve as my shield against adversity—what a foolish heiress, impossible to shake off," Carter sneered to his friends.

"Once I drag her to Princeton, I can finally date Lily without her getting in the way."

I didn't storm in.

I quietly shredded my Princeton forms and submitted my Cambridge acceptance.

Carter seemed to have forgotten one crucial detail: without my family's money, he wasn't a tragic prince. He was just a stray dog.

On the seventh turning of our Lunar Oath, I sat on my Alpha's lap, my hand resting on my flat stomach where our first pup was growing. I was waiting for midnight to tell him.
Then he spoke to his warriors in the Old Tongue.
"My new shadow-pet, Lirael... she tastes like an unplucked sweet-vine in the dark."
He was talking about my own sister.
While my mate smiled at me, playing the devoted Alpha, he had already ruined our sacred bond. And when my sister showed up at our gates claiming she carried his heir, I didn't scream, cry, or beg for the truth.
I just smiled.
Three days.
In three sunsets, Seren Thalyn will cease to exist.
By the time he breached his safe to find my wedding ring and my signed severance scroll, I would already be gone.

My name is Maya Wilson. I'm seventeen, I have 100K TikTok followers, and I just watched my dad destroy our family for a twenty-five-year-old homewrecker named Ashley.

"Ashley makes me feel alive again," he said, dismissing seventeen years of marriage like a bad business deal.

"We'll be one happy family," she smiled, standing in our kitchen like she already owned it.

That's when I knew: Mom needed my protection.

What followed was a war fought with laptops and lies, fake pregnancies and real heartbreak. A battle between a broken housewife discovering her strength, a teenage girl wielding digital weapons, and a woman who thought she could manipulate her way to victory.

Six months later, Mom would be accepting awards. Ashley would be gone. And Dad?

Dad would be begging for forgiveness he'd never get.

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, my husband Nathan audaciously discussed the name of the child his mistress Victoria was carrying, speaking in Spanish right in front of me.
They presumed I could not understand. Yet, not only did I comprehend every word, but I had also long ago uncovered evidence of their affair—including those passionate videos filmed in his car...
But when I vanished completely, he went into a frenzy.
When the news of the 'plane crash' broke, he spent fifty million dollars, deploying twelve rescue helicopters to search relentlessly through the storm for seven days and nights.
When the rescue team informed him that 'there were no survivors,' this once indomitable man knelt on the deck, weeping inconsolably like a child who has lost his mother.
Little did he know, there was no trace of me on that 'lost' plane.
And now, it was my turn to make him experience the true meaning of loss.

Nobody would believe that I, Sienna, the glamorous CEO's wife in the eyes of outsiders, couldn't even scrape together two decent outfits in my closet after three years of marriage.   And no one knew that every single cent I spent in private—from my brother's life-saving medical bills down to a pack of tampons—had to go through my husband's childhood sweetheart and personal assistant via a so-called corporate expense approval system.   I lived like a beggar, groveling for scraps under his assistant's watchful eye.   It wasn't until my critically ill brother's life-saving funds were maliciously rejected, turning my only remaining soft spot in this world to ashes, that this absurd marriage finally came to an end.

The day my mother succumbed to complications during childbirth, her younger sister, Vanessa, wed my father.

Fifteen years later, I beheld my husband accompanying Vanessa as she tried on seductive lingerie.

In that moment, I understood—what she truly coveted was never my father, but rather all that my mother and I shared.

My mother perished during childbirth, a casualty of an illicit affair.

I vowed not to repeat that tragic cycle.

Then I returned home, removed my wedding ring, and left behind the divorce papers.

For three years, I chased the ghost of my missing husband.

When I finally found him, my hysterical tears were met with chilling indifference.

"I'm not the billionaire heir you're looking for," Jaxson said coolly. "Stop stalking me. Mirelle is going to make me sleep on the couch again."

His devotion to another woman shredded my heart. I was ready to walk away forever.

Until I overheard him talking to his brother in the shadows.

"You faked your death on your honeymoon just to be with Mirelle," Kian hissed.

"And now you're faking amnesia to get the Cross Family Fortune back? Haven't you tortured Bryndis enough?"

Jaxson simply downed his drink.

"Mirelle is pregnant," he replied. "I have to bring her into the family officially. This is how I do it."

My despair instantly hardened to ash. The man I had mourned wasn't dead; he was just a monster.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my anxious in-laws, stopping them from rushing over.

When our commercial jet began its plunge, my captain husband looked between me and his secret lover, feigning agonizing indecision over the last emergency flotation vest.
 
This time, I shoved the vest straight into their hands.
 
In my past life, Kian had put on a torturous show of weighing his options before strapping that very vest onto my pregnant body.
 
He had chosen to stay behind on the plummeting aircraft, orchestrating a romanticized double-suicide so he could die in the arms of his beloved Maren.
 
But Maren died on impact, while Kian walked away from the wreckage without a scratch.
 
For months, he played the traumatized survivor. Then, just after our daughter's one-month birthday, she was killed in a tragic accident.
 
Instead of consoling me, Kian cornered me, his eyes burning with vindictive malice.
 
"This is karma. If you hadn't forced your way onto my flight, we wouldn't have been short a vest. You killed my true love. Now, the universe is finally making you feel my exact hell."
 
Shattered by the sudden loss of my baby and his monstrous confession, my mind snapped. I lunged at him, sparking a desperate, violent struggle that dragged us both to our graves.
 
Then, the deafening roar of failing engines filled my ears. The cabin lights flashed a bloody red.
 
I was back on the doomed flight.

I am the jubilant champion's girlfriend, the blissful woman who will reveal to him tonight, "We are to become parents." Yet, I overheard the brutal truth: "The very thought of her mother once climbing into my father's bed fills me with revulsion for every second of this five-year charade."

It turns out that five years of affection was nothing more than a meticulously orchestrated deceit.

In that moment of heartbreak and excruciating pain, our child slipped away as if making the final decision on my behalf. I incinerated all our memories, rendering them vapor in this world.

When that once indomitable champion finally realized his misplaced animosity, and in a desperate bid to find me, fractured his spine amidst the ruins while signing a pact with fate...I am the jubilant champion's girlfriend, the blissful woman who will reveal to him tonight, "We are to become parents." Yet, I overheard the brutal truth: "The very thought of her mother once climbing into my father's bed fills me with revulsion for every second of this five-year charade."

It turns out that five years of affection was nothing more than a meticulously orchestrated deceit.

In that moment of heartbreak and excruciating pain, our child slipped away as if making the final decision on my behalf.

When that once indomitable champion finally realized his misplaced animosity, and in a desperate bid to find me, fractured his spine amidst the ruins while signing a pact with fate...

Three years ago, to quell a mafia feud and save my father's life, I married Alessio.

Over the past three years, the occasional scraps of tenderness he threw my way had slowly tricked me into falling in love.

Until the day I nearly bled to death giving birth to our twins—only for him to immediately hand them over to his true love. His adoptive sister, Bianca, had been left sterile after taking a bullet for him years ago.

In the end, the reality was clear. I was just a breeding vessel, kept around merely to bear children for the only woman he ever loved.

My dignity, my flesh and blood, and my ridiculous love were unapologetically trampled into the dirt.

And when the devastating news of my father's brutal murder followed, the very last trace of weakness in my heart disintegrated into ash.

After being stood up for the ninety-ninth time while attempting to register for marriage, I sent my fiancé a breakup message. He had allowed me to be let down ninety-nine times, dismissing my asthma as mere pretentiousness and perceiving my sacrifices as acts of greed, all the while lavishing his patience upon another woman. It was only when he had his mistress select a cheap necklace for me and sketched explicit nudes of her that I realized these seven years were not a narrative of profound love, but rather an absurd farce playing out solely in my life. The moment I dispatched the breakup message, I never envisioned that this man, who viewed me as dispensable, would later pursue me with a frenzied obsession.

I sat alone at our engagement dinner, having waited for eight long hours.

When my phone finally buzzed, Jasper sounded rushed.

"Lira? I'm so sorry. Things went sideways on my end. Your parents didn't stick around, did they?"

I stared at the melted ice in the champagne bucket.

"No," I said, my voice hollow.

He sighed. "Let's push it to next week, alright? I'll call your parents tomorrow and explain."

He hung up before I could answer.

Seconds later, an Instagram story from a mutual friend lit up my screen: [Elara's 25th! 25 gifts for our girl!]

I watched the video flash through designer bags, Cartier bracelets, and Porsche keys.

Then came the grand finale: Jasper striding across a tarmac in Aspen. The caption read: [Gift #25: The man himself!]

While I waited in an empty banquet hall, my fiancé had flown two states away for his foster sister's birthday.

Then, an iMessage from Elara popped up: [Jasper just can't say no to me. Are you sure you want to tie yourself to a man who will always put you second?]

I didn't cry, and I didn't demand an explanation. Ten years of loving Jasper Boone finally snapped.

I opened his text thread and typed a single response:

[Don't bother rescheduling. We're done.]

I took my fiancé, Julian, on a Caribbean vacation aboard my private yacht.
But he took the liberty of bringing Harper, a childhood best friend my family had financially sponsored growing up.
"Eve, she's practically your sister," he argued. "She hasn't had your luck in life. I brought her along to help you take care of her. Don't tell me you're jealous of your own bestie?"
Once on board, Harper feigned seasickness, melting comfortably into Julian's arms.
Yet, to chase views for her videos, she miraculously recovered, insisting on a cageless deep-sea dive with bloody chum.
When I forcefully stopped them, they started a live stream, framing me as an arrogant rich girl crushing a poor girl's ocean dream. They milked my warnings for millions of views.
Drunk on viral fame, Harper dragged Julian for a secret dive behind my back, instantly attracting a frenzy of aggressive bull sharks.
I dove in to save them without hesitation. But to escape, Harper kicked me straight toward the shark frenzy, while Julian scrambled up the deck without looking back.
I was torn to pieces alive.
They built their fame over my dead body, took over my trust fund, and indirectly caused my devastated parents to die in a plane crash while rushing to the Bahamas.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of that fatal trip.

As I collapsed in a pool of my own blood, the mate-link deep in my mind flared with the thoughts of my Alpha husband, Cullen:
 
'I only had my men give Ayla ten lashes to let Selena vent her frustration. How is she bleeding this much?'
 
'She must be using fake blood again, trying to guilt-trip me into coaxing her.'
 
What he didn't know was that those ten lashes had claimed the life of our two-month-old unborn baby.
 
Nor did he know that I had just been diagnosed with terminal Wolfsbane Necrosis. I had permanently lost my werewolf healing abilities.
 
This wasn't the first time he had hurt me for Selena's sake.
 
When Selena suffered from insomnia, he extracted my heart's blood to use as her cure; when she needed to vent her temper, he turned a blind eye as his guards held my head under the freezing waters of the icy lake.
 
And this time, Selena had caused an absolute catastrophe, provoking a savage pack of rogue wolves.
 
Cullen looked down at my curled-up, trembling form, his tone leaving no room for argument:
 
"Since you are the Luna, you should bear the responsibility. Go to the rogue camp and take the fall for Selena."
 
"With a werewolf's physique, taking a beating won't kill you."
 
He didn't know that Selena had already bribed those rogues to torture me to death.
 
But I didn't cry and beg for myself like I usually did. I simply leaned against the wall and forced myself to stand.
 
"Fine. I'll go."
 
For a split second, a flash of astonishment crossed his eyes. He had no idea that those words were my final goodbye to him.

Everyone in the East Coast outfit agreed: my husband, Draven Rook, had more money than sense.

At restaurants, he mistook the song list for the menu and requested the same pianist's set dozens of times.

When I tried to cancel, my best friend, Bryndis, stopped me. "Let the man have his fun."

His shipments kept going to the wrong address. When I tried to recover one, my mother-in-law, Elowen held me back.

Then the deed to our new penthouse came back in a stranger's name.

My brother, Torin, rushed to explain. "That's my girl's name, sis. She won't marry me without a place in the city. Draven just lent it to me."

Draven never argued.

Last night, I opened his purchase history. Over a hundred grand in gifts, all sent to the same wrong address.

I followed it.

Inside, my mother-in-law, my brother, and my best friend surrounded a woman at the piano.

"Draven's so good to you," Torin said. "A penthouse in the city, just handed over."

Bryndis laughed. "If Maren hadn't gone abroad, Lira never would've married him. Poor Draven had to sit in restaurants for years just to hear her play."

So, Draven was never the fool.

I was.

And I was done being one.

Minutes before the Stanford Hackathon began, my childhood friend decided to bail to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok video.

I was just about to stop him when his inner voice suddenly exploded in my head: 'I actually got reborn?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve and stayed for the competition, securing my spot at Stanford. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!"

'Even though I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If Maeve dares to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My blood ran cold, and the words of persuasion died in my throat.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

A year ago, during the yacht shipwreck, Carter let go of his mistress Valerie's hand in the crushing waves, risking his own life to shove me onto the lifeboat.   Later, weeping by my hospital bed, he swore that staring death in the face had finally made him realize who the only indispensable woman in his life truly was.   I believed him. I wiped the slate clean of his infidelity, utterly convinced that a marriage forged in life and death would be indestructible.   Until tonight. The night of our third wedding anniversary.   Staring at the new notification lighting up his screen—【I'm in the suite downstairs waiting for you. Come fuck me like you did last night, or I'm jumping off the balcony. —V】—the truth finally hit me.

The so-called true love proven at death's door couldn't even survive the cheap lust of ordinary days.   My entire marriage was nothing but a grotesque joke.

For seven whole years, I believed I was suffering from severe amnesia.

I was grateful to my fiancé Vance for never leaving my side, and felt guilty for my sister Daphne's endless tolerance.

Until the eve of the wedding, when I opened a private group chat on Vance's computer named "Remaking Nora."

The over three hundred pages of chat logs were a cruel game that ate me alive:

"That idiot Nora 'forgot' her Stanford acceptance letter again today. Daphne, the spot is yours."
"Hide her wedding ring at the bachelorette party tomorrow night. Watching her frantically look for it like a dog will be absolutely hilarious."

Messages kept popping up in the group. They couldn't wait to see me break down in tears and self-loathing again because of my "amnesia."

I calmly took off the ring on my ring finger, preparing to pack my bags.

Since they wanted a Nora who couldn't remember anything so badly, I would grant their wish—

I would forget this wedding, along with the two of them, completely, and permanently clear them out of my life.

Last lifetime, my mate, Kael, had faked his own death just to openly sleep with his sister-in-law without judgment.

I screamed until my throat bled, pointing at the man pretending to be his dead twin brother.

For telling the truth, he dragged me to the sacred altar and burned my mark off my skin, while our four-year-old son was thrown into a pitch-black cell for crying out for her father.

We were banished, torn apart by rogues.

But the Moon Goddess is fair. She woke me up on the exact day of the funeral.

As the pack howls in mourning for their "dead" Alpha, I look at the man hiding in his brother's skin.

I won't expose him this time.

If Kael wants to play a dead man just to play house with his whore, I'll make sure he stays dead forever.

I was a broke scholarship student. Chloe was an old-money heiress and the untouchable cheer captain.

She paraded me through her elite world and even generously shoved me at her ultimate crush—Aston, the ruthless son of the school board director.

But when Aston and I actually got together, the princess bared her fangs.

She staged a severe fall to drain my meager savings, then framed me for stealing her family's heirloom necklace. And Aston? He dumped me immediately, sneering that I was just a cheap prop desperate to climb the social ladder.

Ostracized and cyberbullied by the entire school, I was locked on the rooftop during the Winter Formal and left to freeze to death in the snow.

But when I opened my eyes...

I was back at that deafening party. Right at the moment Chloe first introduced me to Aston.

My fiancé, a ruthless mafia Capo, always had a convenient excuse for his betrayals.

Any trace of another woman was scrubbed clean.

Exhausted by the gaslighting, I planted a lipstick in his car just to see how deep the deception went.

When I confronted him, he put his phone on speaker.

The whole family stepped up to cover his tracks.

My brother claimed it was misplaced by my best friend. My best friend scoffed, scolding me for my paranoid delusions. Everyone swore Kaelen's loyalty to me was absolute.

What they didn't know was that I had already tracked his encrypted GPS. While they spun their seamless web of lies, I was standing outside the villa.

Through the glass, I watched Kaelen pull his mistress into a deep, possessive kiss amid a celebration for their newborn heir.

The very people who had just fed me alibis were inside, raising glasses to his new family.

Standing there in the cold, I realized how utterly easily I had been replaced.

Let them keep their lies. I am done.

The child I brought into this world through sheer determination now calls my husband's mistress "mother"; the youth who slew my father for my sake and was imprisoned, now confines me beyond the threshold, forcing me to hear his carnal symphony with his stepmother. Only then did I comprehend: the sixteen-year-old boy who committed patricide for me had long perished within the prison walls.

After my mother abandoned me, I did everything to be the perfect "good pup" so I wouldn't be thrown away again.
I smiled as I drank the burning pepper-water my brothers tricked me with. I held out my bleeding hands to take my father's cruel beatings. Even when they locked me in a pitch-black basement to die of a blistering fever, I thought that if I was just 'obedient enough', they would finally love me.
But as I lay dying on that cold concrete floor, something inside me broke forever.
When I finally woke up, I couldn't speak. I couldn't smile. I couldn't even stomach the sight of them. I no longer wanted their affection, their toys, or their love.
And ironically, the exact moment I stopped caring if I existed to them at all... was the moment my cold-blooded father and ruthless brothers fell to their knees in tears, desperately ready to give me the world just to hear me call them family one more time.

I can smell emotions.
 
Love is sweet. Grief is bitter. Anger burns like cracked pepper.
 
For ten years, my fiancé, Jasper, smelled like pure sugar.
 
The only exception was the day my older sister, Maren, moved to Europe three years ago. He came home reeking of bitter ash.
 
Back then, I was too naive to connect the dots.
 
Until today. Maren's wedding day.
 
When Jasper brushed past me at the reception, the scent hit me—a harsh, burning rot of pepper and grief.
 
I followed his trail out of the ballroom, cracking the stairwell door.
 
"This is insane, Maren!" Jasper's voice was raw and desperate. "You're marrying a stranger just to make me give up?"
 
"What else can I do?" my sister sobbed. "You're marrying Celandine! We can't keep doing this!"
 
I stopped dead, unable to pull a single breath into my lungs.
 
My phone buzzed. A calendar alert: [Celandine & Jasper's Wedding – 7 Days.]
 
I stared at the screen, unable to feel my own fingers.
 
Then, I canceled my wedding.

In my past life, my Mafia Don husband left me and our unborn baby to burn just to save my half-sister.

Reborn, I watched him crush my fingers in a door to protect her once again.

"Hurt her, and we get a divorce," he sneered.

He thought the threat would break me. He didn't know his signature was already on the divorce papers hidden in my bag.

On the day of their lavish wedding, I took the hand of his deadliest rival, looked down from a helicopter, and pressed the detonator to his estate.

Draven Hale had always loved me like drowning — total, breathless, nothing held back.
But the day Lenora Veyra's oncologist stamped terminal across her diagnostic dossier, that devotion changed direction.
He reached into his coat pocket and pressed a capsule into my palm.
A targeted memory-suppressant serum.
"Three days, Vesper," he said. "Lenora's dying. Let me give her a wedding. That's all she wants."
It wouldn't hurt, he promised.
Afterwards I'd take the counteragent, the last three days would dissolve like smoke, and we'd walk back into the registry office and put the ring back where it belonged.
I stared at him in silence, and I swallowed the capsule dry.
What Draven didn't know was that the compound was mine — I'd built it. And I knew that there was no counteragent.
In seventy-two hours, he'd be nothing to me but a stranger with a familiar face.

My Mafia boss husband brought his late brother's widow and child back to our estate and demanded I move into the nanny's quarters..

This time, I didn't pull a gun and fight with him like I did in my past life. Instead, I brought out my suitcase to pack and make room.

Later, for our daughter's birthday, Julian gifted her a foal.

Beatrice's son cried and threw a tantrum, demanding it.

My five-year-old daughter calmly handed over the lead rope. "Daddy said Leo doesn't have a papa anymore, so from now on, my papa is his papa."

"I should learn to be generous."

At first, Julian was extremely gratified by our tolerance and maturity. But gradually, he panicked as he realized—

There was no more love in my eyes, and our daughter no longer opened her arms to ask for his hugs.

Little did he know, in our previous life, in order to protect that mother and son, he banished us to the subterranean water dungeon.

While my daughter and I contracted the plague, dying in despair amidst the stench and the gnawing of rats, he was holding that woman's hand in a brightly lit banquet hall, announcing to the entire Family that she would be under his lifelong protection.

Reborn into this life, my daughter and I no longer fought, no longer made a fuss.

But we also never needed Julian again.

"Mom, I only want to go to Paris with you, not Dad."

When my ten-year-old daughter said this with tears in her eyes, I thought she was expressing her love for me.

I was wrong.

In our Paris hotel, I accidentally overheard the phone call that changed everything—

"Don't worry, Lily will find a way to extend the trip. I promised to buy her that concert-grade piano."

"Having sex in your marital bed is so thrilling, much better than at my apartment."

"That little girl Lily cooperates perfectly, always managing to lead Sarah away."

In that moment, my world completely shattered.

I thought I was only being betrayed by my husband, but discovered that even the daughter I carried for ten months was their carefully orchestrated pawn.

The child I raised with my own hands was actually helping her father's mistress occupy my home and sleep in my bed.

When a mother discovers she's been deceived by those she loves most, her revenge will make everyone pay a devastating price.

Two years later, when I saw that once-successful man wearing a shabby suit, accompanied by his malnourished daughter at my charity auction, I only said coldly:

"She can come with me, but you—never deserve it."

When my husband pushed the divorce papers in front of me for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I didn't cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name, willingly giving up the man I'd loved for eight years to Ivy.

A few days later, Ivy got drunk and drove into a state senator's only son during a street race, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. Once again, I stepped forward to take the blame and bear all the consequences.
When they later suggested I donate my kidney to Ivy, I readily agreed.

Mom and Dad said I'd finally grown into a mature and responsible sister.

Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He whispered, "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be a success. When you recover, we'll go traveling."

But he didn't know that whether the surgery succeeded or not, I wouldn't be going anywhere with him.

Because I was already terminally ill, with little time left.

The night Julian went public with the new cheer captain, everyone expected me to crash the party and completely lose my mind.

But the confession ended, and I never showed up.

What Julian didn't know was that at that exact moment, I was wearing his cousin's oversized shirt, sitting on the edge of his mattress, asking with perfect innocence:

"I just got your sheets wet. Where are we supposed to sleep tonight?"

Ever since the day Roman pressed a gun to my head and condemned me as his parents' murderer, I became the most lowly prisoner in this estate.
 
He didn't kill me. Instead, he kept me in line using my dying mother's medical bills and my adopted sister, Callie, as leverage.
 
For three years, he paraded various women into the master bedroom, leaving me to change their tangled sheets; he ground my dignity into the dirt in front of his men, and I swallowed the humiliation in silence.
 
Until the day he wrapped his arm around a pregnant Callie, flaunting her in my face.

I finally broke down, falling to my knees at his feet:
 
"My mother is dying, and Callie is the only family I have left. I'm begging you—direct all your cruelty at me. Just let her go."
 
Roman merely scoffed. Twisting his hand into my hair, he dragged me all the way into the great hall.
 
There, my "terminally ill" mother stood holding a glass of expensive red wine, her face flushed and glowing with health as she smilingly stroked Callie's slightly rounded belly.
 
"Look—it was all a lie." Roman stared at me like I was trash. "Who told you to be so stubborn and refuse to confess? I dropped some spare change, and your mother willingly faked her illness for three years. And your sweet little sister? She calls me her husband in my bed every single day."
 
A brutal chill pierced my bones. I couldn't believe that the very blood relatives I had sacrificed my life to protect were the leeches draining me dry.
 
Roman slammed a Divorce Agreement onto the coffee table. Under the asset division column was an utterly humiliating number: $1.
 
"Callie is pregnant with the family's first-born heir. Be a good girl and sign it—this one dollar is your severance pay."
 
He was so absolutely certain that I would go completely insane at the sight of this pathetic dollar.

He assumed that even with a gun to my head, I would bawl and cling desperately to my title as the Don's wife.
 
But after a brief, dead silence, I signed my name.
 
Then, I picked up that one-dollar coin.
 
"You're right. Our last ten years together are worth exactly one dollar."
 
From this moment on, whether it was my bloodsucking family or the man I had loved for a decade...
 
We were completely, entirely done.

A siren's tears turn to gemstones.

Mine were funding my boyfriend's entire career—but ordinary stones weren't enough anymore.

Deep-sea sapphires. That's what he was after.

So he brought a whip.

"Almost there, babe. Cry for me and it's over."

"Once I'm in, I'll marry you."

My vision blurred with tears—then something else flooded in.

Bright, scrolling, impossible words:

[LOL, by the time he gets his Council seat, he'll have wrung her dry and married the Arcane Princess instead.]

[Sandra, check out the vampire prince next door—he heard you screaming and thinks you two are having sex. He's crying under his blankets right now.]

[When you're literally dying in the finale, the prince is the one who carries you to the Eastern Sea. That's the only reason you survive.]

[Oh, and the prince is a purebred incubus hybrid. Eight-pack abs. Naturally compatible with desire-driven sirens. Stop suffering for this loser and go live your best life!]

My eyes lit up. I kicked the man in front of me straight into the wall.

Hopped next door, pushed open the door: "Kaelen, I hear you've got a nice body—prove it?"

My son was killed in a horrific car bomb assassination.

At his rain-drenched funeral, my husband, Enzo—a Mafia Don—held an umbrella over my head, only to suddenly state with icy indifference:

"Gianna is pregnant. It's my blood."

Gianna. The illegitimate daughter of the Lucchese family boss.

I stiffened, looking up in sheer disbelief.

"What the hell does that mean?"

He cast a careless glance at me, completely unbothered.

"To end the war between the Corsican and Lucchese families, I've been with her in secret for a while now. Now that she carries the Corsican bloodline, I must give her a proper title. She will be moving into the estate tonight. You will not only accept this, but you will also give her the respect she deserves as the mother of my child."